John ‘Butch’ Dale with his father and mother.

By John ‘Butch’ Dale
Guest Columnist

All of us like to think back to those carefree days of our childhood. We usually dwell on the fun times that we had with family and friends and classmates. It is very common to forget the sad or unhappy times. Our brains tend to shut out those memories.

John ‘Butch’ Dale

I know it may sound strange to say this, but some of my fondest memories of childhood were the times when I was sick or injured … those times when my parents took care of me and tried to make me feel better. Like most families, my folks very seldom took us to a doctor unless it was an emergency. They had their own cures and remedies passed down to them through the years, most of which worked just fine.

This included “comfort food” which might not cure the ailment, but always made us feel better. Whenever I had a severe cold, Mom stirred up a batch of chicken noodle soup. For coughs, I was given a spoonful or two of honey. For stomach aches, she fixed me a bowl of rice, or graham crackers, or white toast with a dab of jelly. And for a sore throat, I gargled salt water and was then rewarded with a popsicle … and maybe even two if I could put on a good act! Other comfort foods included ice cream, 7-Up, Jell-O, hot cocoa or Ovaltine, Cream of Wheat topped with brown sugar, poached eggs … and sometimes anything I wanted!!!

For some reason I suffered from many headaches as a child. This continued into adulthood when I experienced severe migraines. Mom’s cure was to give me two aspirin and a glass of cold glass of water, then apply an ice bag to my forehead, turn on the fan, and let me watch my favorite TV program. In a short time, the headache disappeared.

I still have this routine today, except I go into a dark room and need peace and quiet. I also suffered from terrible leg aches as a child, likely from being on the go all day long. This called for Dad to get out the rubbing alcohol and Omega oil liniment and massage these into my aching leg muscles. Dad did that hundreds of times until I reached my teenage years.

For minor cuts and scrapes, Mom washed off the injured area with soap and water, and then grabbed the Mercurochrome from the medicine cabinet … and yes, it stung … but I was then provided with cookies and milk to help forget the pain. On bee stings, baking soda and a kiss worked well.

When I caused my brother Gary to wreck his bike into a barbed wire fence, which inflicted three large gashes across his abdomen, Dad carried him to the back porch. I helped hold him down as Dad administered several applications of turpentine to the cuts. I can still hear Gary screaming from that episode! Of course, Mom likely comforted him by giving him some goodies and turning on the Roy Rogers TV show.

I guess during those times, I felt a little special while receiving all of that attention. Mom or Dad would cover me up, fluff up my pillow, and tuck me in at bedtime, and I would feel loved. When I was very young, they would read to me my favorite story, “Teddy Bear of Bumpkin Hollow.” And I always said my nighttime prayer … “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen.”

But I knew nothing bad would happen as I slept. Mom and Dad would protect and take good care of me.